


Hello Officer

by blaidddrwg



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blaidddrwg/pseuds/blaidddrwg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian gets a coffee and runs into more than just a stranger.  (Was a request.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello Officer

“Large black, no sugar.” The deep voiced sniper made the request simple and the transaction fast, not really interested in the formalities of being friendly. He sighed as he sat in the chair outside, the crisp fall wind dragging the leaves against the sidewalk. There weren’t very many people out—most were just coming home or making dinner, spending time with someone who loved them. Picking at the top of the cup, the sniper pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Someone in his line of work was not set up to make very many friends, let alone a relationship.

He stayed there a while, ignoring the worker who was pushing the chairs in around him, a gentle reminder they were closing in five minutes and they would rather he go sit somewhere else. He looked up, though, when there was a small figure standing in back of the chair across from him, tapping fingers against the top. 

“Sir, you need to move your car before it gets towed. Your meter’s almost out.” The warning came in a singsong voice with a slight Irish drawl. 

“Thanks.” By the time the sniper stood up, the policeman was on his way, swinging his keys and whistling the tune of some 1970’s disco song. He sighed, deciding to go home to his shitty flat. He didn’t have any more quarters to dump in the meter, and no real reason to stay downtown anyway. Maybe he’d stop and get some whiskey on the way home. 

He pulled into the driveway, starting up to the door when he noticed a light on inside. Cautiously, he went inside to find the policeman he’d seen earlier sitting at his kitchen table, now dressed in a suit and looking far from lawful. 

“Sebastian Moran.” The small figure started.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sebastian spat, tensing and ready to attack.

“Calm down, you’re like a tiger with those deadly eyes.” The man nonchalantly put one leg over the other. “Sheesh!”

“If you don’t tell me who you are in three seconds, you’ll be dead before you stand up.” 

The whole tone of the room changed with the face of the man in the chair.

“Back off.”

“You’re in my flat, don—”

“I’m here to offer you a job, Sebastian.”

Silence.

“…what kind of employer breaks into a flat?”

“I didn’t break in, you should really lock your doors.”

“Answer me.”

“So demanding!” The man scoffed, almost laughing. Bastard. “You’ll need to work on that.”

Sebastian glared. He wanted to attack the intruder, but something in his gut told him not to. 

“I’m here to offer you a job.”

“You said that.”

“AS a sniper.” The man didn’t like being cut off. 

“Already have that job.”

“I know.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes. You work for, who was it…” The man seemed to be searching for an answer, like a name on the tip of his tongue. “James Moriarty?”

The sniper stayed silent, his hair raised on end. No one who had good intentions knew that name. No one worth trusting would know who Sebastian worked for. 

“I don’t know who yo—”

“Oh come off it, Sebastian.”

“Look, I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about!”

A moment passed, and another stare down ensued. Sebastian decided he could get to the gun on the counter before the smaller man could shoot him, provided he was armed.

“So loyal to a man you’ve never met before.”

He shouldn’t know this much. What the hell was this?

“I. Don’t know. Who. You’re talking about, and if you say it one more—”

The man stood up and held out his hand, only speaking again when Sebastian took the offer, finally realizing just who was sitting at his table. He relaxed a bit, smirking as the dark haired man in the suit started talking again.

“James Moriarty, consulting criminal.” The man spoke confidently. “Nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy being my new personal sniper, Sebastian. You won’t be doing anything else for the rest of your life.”

“I need a fucking cigarette.”


End file.
